


ghosts of the past

by greenfelix (literallyepsilon)



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, made for a3_69min!, this is just a madoka think piece ive cheated you all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 15:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21284201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literallyepsilon/pseuds/greenfelix
Summary: madoka faces a ghost of his past. (technical spoilers for sky pirates!)written for@a3_69minon twitter!!
Relationships: Ikaruga Misumi & Ikaruga Madoka
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	ghosts of the past

**Author's Note:**

> it is 4:05am. i wrote a fic about madoka,. i love him. i hope u enjoy

“Eh? What do you _ mean _ he’s coming here instead of going back to his own place?”  
“I mean that he’s coming back, and we have to do everything to stop him from seeing him.”  
“But Madoka is -- “  
“That’s something we agreed on long ago. We both agreed, remember?”  
“Madoka’s becoming that age where he begins to question things, though. Is that really alright, to keep them hidden?”  
“Of course it is. As long as _ that boy _doesn’t enter the house, then -- “

“Mother? Father? What are you talking about?”

Madoka opens the tatami door with a quiet sliding noise, and the two adults turn up to face him, eyes wide with surprise. His mother sighs, giving the man beside her a Look, and Madoka only tilts his head, expression blank, as usual. There’s no sign on Madoka’s face that indicates he’d been listening, but it was difficult to tell with him.

“Madoka,” his father says. “Have you completed the script?”  
“Yes, sir.” Madoka replies, holding the papers in his hands. “It’s right here.”  
“I see. I’ll send it to Reni-san immediately.” 

He stands from his place at the kotatsu, and takes the stapled stack of papers from Madoka, ignoring the way his hands shake slightly. It’s clear to Madoka’s mother, however, that something is very wrong with their son. She opens her mouth to speak, only for Madoka to bow to the two of them.

“You’ll start on the next one soon, right?” his father says. “GODza has many troupes. We have to provide for all of them, even the terrible ones.”  
“Yes, sir.” Madoka replies, voice completely monotone. “I’ll focus on writing the lower-ranked troupes’ plays first.”  
“Make sure they’re still good.”  
“Yes, sir.”

Slowly, Madoka makes his way back to his room, and his mother eyes him as he goes, tilting her head at him.

“Are we really sure that we shouldn’t let him see _ that boy _ ?” she asks, and he nods, brandishing the stack of papers like a weapon.   
“Seeing him will only distract Madoka. Besides,” he says, “we already told him he was dead.”

* * *

“Let’s see…”

Madoka glances at the clock on his phone, one of the few bright lights in his room. He squints, looking at the display with tired eyes, and spots a message appearing on LIME. He’d downloaded LIME after memorising the way his parents typed the password to the App Store for ‘authorised apps’, of which LIME was not one of them. They had said it would distract him.

**Muku: **madoka!

His eyes widen slightly at the message, and he picks his phone up, typing a response.

**Madoka: ** Hello, Muku  
**Muku: ** you replied! it’s so late :Oc  
**Muku: **what are you doing awake??

The lie comes easy.

**Madoka: ** I couldn’t sleep  
**Madoka: ** Why are you awake?  
**Muku: ** i couldn’t sleep either ( ; w ;)  
**Muku: ** did you hear though?  
**Madoka: ** What?  
**Muku: **misumi told us he’s coming over to visit you tomorrow!

Madoka nearly drops his phone at the message. Misumi was coming over? _ Here _ ? For _ him _?

**Madoka: ** He shouldn’t  
**Madoka: ** Our parents won’t let him in  
**Muku: ** he knows!  
**Muku: **he wants to come anyway, though!

Was he stupid? Who would want to _ come back _ here? What was the point of it? Didn’t Misumi know how much he’d suffer just being here? If he was out of the house, he should have just stayed out. His parents would never let Misumi in, and they would never let Madoka out. He had so much work to do that it was suffocating.

**Madoka: ** It’s a stupid idea  
**Muku: **don’t you want to see him, though? you were telling me about it that time in the library…

Of _ course _Madoka wanted to see him. Honestly, Misumi was the number one person that Madoka wanted to see right now. It was painful -- the feeling of being alone when he knew he didn’t have to be, that there was someone outside these compound’s walls waiting for him, someone who wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see him. 

He swallows as he types.

**Madoka: ** It’s because it’s an impossible idea that I could talk about it  
**Madoka: ** Tell him not to come  
**Muku: ** but madoka…  
**Madoka: **Don’t come, Misumi

He sets his phone back on the table, turning it screen down. He can hear the quiet vibrations of it on the table, buzzing here and there, and he sets his mind to ignoring it, clicking on his desk lamp. The blank paper sits mockingly on the table, and Madoka wants to rip through all of it. Throw it into the trash, or make countless paper airplanes or paper stars. One million stars for one million sentences, two million pages, forced through the sieve of his mind.

He feels like he’s being chipped away at. Every script that he writes carries a piece of him with it, no matter what it is.

He looks down at the paper again, and begins to write the story of a boy abandoned by the world.

* * *

The next morning, there’s a commotion at the front gate as Madoka’s packing his things up for school. He has his books in his bag, slung over his shoulder, and he stares at the maids gathered at the front door, whispering to each other. He stares at the gaggle of people, and looks at the gate.

“...Ah, young master Ikaruga,” one maid says upon seeing him. “We’ll escort you through the other entrance.”  
“I’ll go through this one.” Madoka replies. “No need to trouble you. I’ll be fine.”  
“But young master Ikaruga,”  
“It’s fine. I don’t know why I wouldn’t be able to go through here.”

Lies stain his lips as easily as blood on white sheets.

“It’s imperative you use the other entrance.” the maid says, and takes his shoulders.

She startles, then, upon feeling him.

“Young master,” she begins, and Madoka makes an affirmative noise. “Are you -- “  
“I’ll go through the other entrance.” Madoka says. 

He’s not one to deny his father and mother’s wishes, as ridiculous as he believes it is. His feet move without his permission, leading him towards the back of the house. His shoes pad against the wooden floor, and he glances around him. The feeling that something is certainly off about this situation sits with him, even as he reaches the door. 

Madoka puts his hand on the door, turns the handle open, and pushes it open --

and a hand wraps around his wrist.

He looks up, too tired to scream out, and meets a familiar set of golden eyes, sparkling in the sunlight. He winks at Madoka, and suddenly, they’re running. 

(The maid lets herself relax. Perhaps, for once, Madoka will smile again, just like back then.)

It’s difficult to keep up. Madoka’s panting in seconds -- the lack of a proper breakfast, Madoka’s lack of stamina, and the weight of his bag drags Madoka behind, but Misumi carries on running, as if he wasn’t carrying the world’s heaviest weight behind him, both physically and emotionally.

He doesn’t know how long they run for, and how his parents haven’t stopped them yet. He’s sure Misumi is going to pick him up at any time now, and isn’t surprised when he does, pulling him into his arms. Misumi is thrilled -- and Madoka is surprised to say he is, as well. His breath catches in his throat, and he wraps his arms around his brother, scared to fall from his grip, even though Misumi’s holding him like a seatbelt.

Misumi vaults from a pillar to another, and Madoka feels like he’s flying, eyes widening at the feeling of wind in his hair. 

He hears laughing -- and it takes Madoka a moment to realise that the laughing is coming from him. Misumi’s giggling, himself, squeezing him tight, but Madoka seems to remember that Misumi is always laughing about something, always happy. Even when things are terrible, Misumi’s happy… 

“Madoka!” Misumi says, and Madoka looks at him. “Let’s play!”  
“I have to go to school,” Madoka says. “Mother and Father will -- “  
“It’s all going to be okay now!”

Is it? Madoka doesn’t understand _ what’s _ going to be okay. Understanding his brother is like trying to count the numbers of stars in space, or trying to count the amount of lines he’d written for plays. 

Misumi squeezes him softly, and Madoka gives him a look, feeling the running finally come to a slow stop. He looks up, and the sign in front reads MANKAI COMPANY -- a name that Madoka has now become more than familiar with. Misumi lived here, and Muku and Azami as well. Madoka had often seen it on his walks home, but had never had the opportunity to linger.

“Omi made you some delicious circles, Madoka, so come join us, okay?” Misumi says, eyes sparkling. “And then you can take a reaaaaally happy nap!”  
“I don’t understand you,” Madoka says, quietly. “But alright, nii-san. I’ll join you.”

It’s hard to say what’s going through Madoka’s head right now. His eyes are misting up, but the feeling in his chest doesn’t match up with the tears dripping down from his face. His mind feels fuzzy, and his chest begins to ache. How painful...how painful, and yet how wonderful, this feeling is.

“Madoka?” Misumi asks. “What’s wrong? We’ll go eat the circles now, so don’t cry, okay?”  
“I’m not crying,” Madoka lies, the lie gritted out like bricks through a grinder. 

Misumi takes his hand, and Madoka feels like he’s eight years old again, playing with paper airplanes in the garden, with his brother by his side. 

Perhaps, if Madoka is lucky, he’ll be able to do it again.


End file.
